


The essence between

by eldvarpa



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Regret, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24662746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldvarpa/pseuds/eldvarpa
Summary: Celebrimbor reveals the truth about his parents to Narvi
Relationships: Implied Celegorm/Curufin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	The essence between

Celebrimbor had been quiet all evening. 

They were both tired. They were about to start crafting the doors, and they were both eager to and a little anxious. They had readied their tools and examined for the umpteenth time the slabs on which they had tested the techniques to do the carvings, which stood all around them in the workshop they shared. 

It wasn't the Doors which weighed so heavy on Celebrimbor's mind. 

“Thinking of your father?” Narvi asked, sitting down opposite him. 

Celebrimbor looked up, eyes brighter than normal, his hands clutched around an almost empty tankard. He sighed then nodded.

Narvi raised his own tankard in a vicarious, muted toast. He drank, let a few moments go by before speaking again.

“You're always thinking of your father, but you never speak of your mother.”

Celebrimbor flinched slightly, but Narvi gently pressed on.

“What was she like? She stayed in the West, right?” 

Celebrimbor shook his head. He drank the last of his ale, let go of the tankard to curl his hands in his lap. He blinked tears away as he finally said, “my mother's dead.”

“Oh –” 

“My mother died with my father, not sure if before or after him.”

“In Doriath?” Narvi couldn't help asking.

The answer was an obvious, barely audible 'yes'.

“I'm sorry, I thought –”

Celebrimbor shrugged one shoulder. “No one knows.” He paused, sighed again. “The thing is...you know them as my father and uncle, but they were my mother and father.”

It took more than a moment for the full meaning of Celebrimbor's words to sink in. Even after it did, Narvi wasn't sure what to say, so he took Celebrimbor's empty tankard and stood up to fill it again. As he did, it occurred to him that Celebrimbor had probably never ever shared that secret with anyone before, and though Narvi did wish he had never asked in the first place, he wasn't going to let a friend down. A best friend.

He went back to the carpet.

“Celegorm is still your uncle too, though,” he said, handing Celebrimbor more fresh, soothing ale.

Celebrimbor accepted the tankard, and the joke. He gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but Curufin gave birth to me.”

Narvi _almost_ said that with a name like 'little father' it was to be expected that people would not imagine Curufin could be a _mother_ , but immediately realised how stupid that line of reasoning was.

“They're also your father, in a way.”

Celebrimbor's smile filled with so much tenderness. “He was a bit of both, I guess.” He met Narvi's gaze. “Does it bother you?”

“Well, you have plenty of stories about your father and uncle, plenty of religiously kept memories. I feel like I should have guessed on my own. How did Curufin come to be your father though?”

“It wasn't so hard. When strangers met him, they often couldn't decide if he was a man or a woman. I think even the whole half-relative crew was not so sure. He would go with both Fëanáriel and Fëanárion, you see. He just didn't care about that sort of thing. Beleriand was no place for ambiguity though, with the war and everything else going on, so he went with 'son'. And now that's the only truth, and here I am, calling Curufin my father and Celegorm my uncle. But it's not like I can up and say 'no look, that's not really accurate, Curufin was my mother who had me with her brother'.”

Narvi nodded. 

“We were happy in Himlad, all three of us...as happy as we could be with grandfather dead.”

“You remember him?” Narvi said. The real question, of course, was 'he knew?'.

Celebrimbor could tell. “I was born in Formenos. The confusion that followed made it easy to muddle my birth up. Talk about luck. Grandfather is just a big hug to me, but he was always alive in my parents' tales and in their souls.”

Celebrimbor bowed his head and fell silent for a time, but kept worrying his lip. 

A few minutes went by.

“Narvi.”

“Yes?”

“You can't even imagine how much I regret abandoning them.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Yeah yeah, it was the right choice, the wise choice, I got a 'good' ranking in the histories. Almost every single night my parents are there in my dreams, they are leaving and I want to follow them but my legs are heavy and they disappear while I can't move.” Celebrimbor shook his head. “It may have been the right thing to do, but it was also a sin, one I need to pay dearly for.”

More than the gloominess of the thought, it was the assurance with which Celebrimbor said the words that disturbed Narvi. “Why don't you try to...honour their memory in some different fashion?”

“How?”

Narvi racked his brains for options then his eyes fell on one of the preliminary carvings, one with seven stars for the seven Dwarvish clans. “Why not put their star...your star on the Doors?”

“The Doors? That would scare every upright elf away.”

Narvi laughed. He gestured for Celebrimbor to raise his tankard and toasted properly with him. “It might, but it's our Doors, not the elves'. I'm sure Durin himself will be fine with it. After all, your father...I mean mother too was a friend.”

When the doors were revealed the Dwarves of Khazad-Dûm broke into loud cheering, but the elves in attendance took a moment start clapping and cheering too. 

Narvi took note of all reactions, while Celebrimbor focused solely on the star.

No worry crinkled Celebrimbor's face when Narvi and he were alone again before the doors. Celebrimbor looked like someone who's found their way home. A little closer. A little more at peace.

“So?” he asked, only with curiosity.

Narvi grinned. “Most elves look puzzled but then went with the flow of the celebrations. You could practically see outrage gnawing at the lord Celeborn's liver though. His wife's reaction was more restrained, but even she was clearly off-put.”

Celebrimbor shrugged. He traced the star with his fingers.

“While we carved this, it was like my mother was holding me again and then father swept in and swept us both up, laughing.” Celebrimbor lay his palm flat on the star, and turned to Narvi. “Thank you, my friend,” he said, and it couldn't have been more heartfelt.

Narvi smiled up at him and patted his lower back, taking a moment to steady his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Silver fist' makes an amazing amount of sense as a name if Celegorm is the dad (...or the mom, but that's a different story).


End file.
